


Making It Up

by whatabadchoice



Series: Tuesdays [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, hotel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 14:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15220955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatabadchoice/pseuds/whatabadchoice
Summary: “It’s not that I’min lovewith bees, Mr.-Dean,” Castiel is saying haughtily, but Dean can barely concentrate on the words. Castiel has had three beers and a generous helping of Dean’s fries, on top of the double cheeseburger he was moaning around about sixteen minutes ago. His eyes crinkle when he smiles and his cheekbones are pink. Dean hopes it’s more than just the alcohol. Plus, Castiel still catches himself almost calling Dean Mr. Smith and Dean can’t decide if it’s adorable or infuriating, or maybe kind of hot. Okay, Dean’s had three beers too.





	Making It Up

**Author's Note:**

> ok ngl I cannot WAIT for this to be over lol this was like pulling teeth and it probably shows. Sorry for any inconsistencies as far as time/plot/whatever. Only a few more chapters left so I can tie up loose ends hopefully and give these two the ending they deserve (maybe). 
> 
> As always thanks for reading and commenting y'all are amazing for sticking it out!! Final stretch here and then hopefully I can write something else after this!

JULY 1ST (later on)

“It’s not that I’m _in love_ with bees, Mr.-Dean,” Castiel is saying haughtily, but Dean can barely concentrate on the words. Castiel has had three beers and a generous helping of Dean’s fries, on top of the double cheeseburger he was moaning around about sixteen minutes ago. His eyes crinkle when he smiles and his cheekbones are pink. Dean hopes it’s more than just the alcohol. Plus, Castiel still catches himself almost calling Dean Mr. Smith and Dean can’t decide if it’s adorable or infuriating, or maybe kind of hot. Okay, Dean’s had three beers too.

“I said I _love_ their intricacies! Their particularities!” Castiel rolls his eyes for effect and Dean can’t help the grin he’s sporting. Fuck. _Fuck._ He’s so fucking lucky this somehow worked. For months now Dean’s been holding on to the thought of this cute little Alpha, saving up each weekly interaction like a tiny ray of sunshine he could keep throughout his shitty job every day. For months he’s been wishing, sometimes hoping, that Castiel might be into giving more than just great customer service… And then his heat. Dean’s cheeks still burn at the thought, but he can’t really tell if it’s embarrassment or arousal at this point. The whole ordeal was a blur, but he knows it’s because of Castiel that he is still alive. Castiel brought him Dr. Wesson and Dr. Wesson _knew his shit_. Dean realizes he’s been thinking too long when Castiel somehow pouts loudly.

“Right, right, the dancing, the honey… Fine,” Dean concedes, confident Castiel had just finished another rant about bees. He hadn’t shut up about them since Dean had mentioned the honey. Apparently, Castiel had a small hive on the roof of his apartment. _Apparently_ he had worked out a deal with his landlord, though the humble beginnings of this bee business seemed to have had clandestine origins. Castiel was pretty vague about that part. 

Dean doesn’t mind. Castiel is very cute when he rambles. And for once, Dean isn’t the one feeling like he’s revealed too much. 

As if reading Dean’s thoughts, Castiel puts a hand to his mouth.

“I’m babbling,” he says, and promptly hiccups. “I’m drunk.” 

Castiel looks up at Dean through his eyelashes and feigns sheepishness. Dean knows it’s feigned, he remembers that phone call.

“Hmm,” Dean intones, sly. “Can’t remember the last time you were drunk…” He pauses for effect. “Wait, no. Yeah I do.”

Castiel’s even cuter when he blushes.

“You-” Castiel sighs. “Oh fuck it, it’s not like I have a job to report to.”

His expression changes from defensive to morose as he drains his beer. Right. The elephant in the room that they have yet to discuss. The starting over thing had been cute, and it had gotten Dean this date, but eventually they should probably talk it out. Dean hates the shift in the mood and the atmosphere in the diner is too thick for him to get a read on Castiel’s scent. So, instead, he motions for the cheque, hoping to perhaps move to a quieter setting. Castiel stiffens.

“Right,” he says, attempting to straighten up. “We should split this and go home, it’s getting late.”

Castiel starts rummaging in the box full of items from the hotel for what Dean assumes is his wallet, but Dean reaches across the table to get his attention.

“I mean, I guess you’re probably not welcome where I’m staying right now… It’s the last night that the company is covering anyway. They figured I’d make a fuss if they didn’t respect my _omega rights_ before they ‘let me go’ or whatever, but…” Dean shakes his head. “Ok, I really don’t know how I’m supposed to invite myself to my date’s place without being rude.”

He is _so_ cute when he blushes.

 

JULY 2ND ( _early_ morning)

Castiel’s place really isn’t what he had imagined, although he couldn’t tell you what he would have imagined either. It’s… bare. Dean tries not to stare as he takes it in, but the sad mattress and mirror combo and the plain white walls with small windows near the ceiling are kind of depressing. Castiel notices.

“I know, I know,” Castiel says, waving Dean off and plopping down onto the large nest of blankets on his bed. “I have been meaning to decorate for about three years now. I just can’t bring myself to waste money on anything frivolous like a rug.”

Dean thinks about his plain condo back home and his lack of investment in anything other than getting ahead at work for the past few years. _Alright, fair enough._ Dean moves to where Castiel is patting the space beside him on the mattress. 

“Are we going to fuck now, Dean?” Castiel asks. 

Dean almost double-takes. 

“Wha?” he responds eloquently, but Castiel is already taking off his shoes and uncuffing his ridiculously uptight dress shirt. Dean touches him lightly.

“Actually,” he says, bringing Castiel’s hands down to his sides again. “I was kind of hoping we would get to _talk_.”

Castiel shrugs his shoulders, looking up at Dean with slightly wild eyes.

“Sure,” he says, dropping back down to bounce on the mattress. “What would you like to talk about?” 

“Would you like to discuss how we both are jobless and at least one of us is homeless?” Castiel continues. “Don’t worry, I’ll be following suit soon enough. Who knows how long I’ll be able to afford the centre and here? That’s if Dr. Wesson will even agree to be my doctor anymore considering what he witnessed! And then there’s you, who I… who…”

Castiel stops talking abruptly and finally looks at Dean in the eye.

“You’re absolutely sure you wouldn’t prefer just taking my knot right now instead?” he asks, a little hysterical.

Dean, for once, keeps his cool. Just the word knot coming out of Castiel’s mouth is about enough to have Dean sitting uncomfortably, but he doesn’t - no, seriously - doesn’t want to just have this night with Castiel. And if this man was able to stand in Dean’s room, smelling his heat and hearing him beg… Dean could suffer through a little longer.

“Well, I don’t know if _sure_ is the right word, but I do kind of think we should figure out what’s going on here... “ Dean winces. “I sound like a chick flick script.”

“No,” Castiel absentmindedly reassures him. “Well, yes, but it’s okay. All of this is kind of an enormous mess.”

“Yep. Total shit show,” Dean agrees.

“I wish,” Castiel starts, but then stops. Dean sighs.

“You know, the whole point of the starting over thing was so we would have a clean slate… But that’s stupid. We’ve got kind of a history, you and me, and I like it. Even the weird and crappy parts.”

Castiel leans back on his elbows, staring up at the ceiling.

“What are we going to do?” he says. “What am I going to do?”

“It’ll be okay,” Dean says, though he’s not sure it will. “You’re a smart guy, you’ll figure it out.”

There’s a pause in which Castiel looks like he wants to say more but again, stops himself before he can. Dean growls in frustration.

“This sucks,” Dean says. “Aren’t True Mates supposed to be magical and all high on each other’s scents and shit? All I smell is disappointment and anxiety. I just want you to be happy, Cas. I want to help, but I don’t know how.” 

Even Dean can hear the slight whine in his voice, and he doesn’t miss the way Castiel’s eyes widen at the words True Mates. Dean rolls over onto his side, ignoring the heat in his cheeks as he snuffles into Castiel’s arm. Castiel collapses almost instantly, the tension in his posture melting and his body automatically curving into Dean’s. There’s arousal in his scent, but from up close, Dean mostly smells relief and comfort and sadness. His chest aches with the need to _helpcomfortprotect_ , so he gives into his instincts and strokes the stubble along Cas’ jaw. His alpha is _so_ beautiful.

“You… you really think I’m your True Mate?” Castiel asks quietly, eyes downcast. Dean holds Castiel’s chin up, fighting a small chuckle.

“Dude. I haven’t had a heat in about 4 years.”

Castiel cracks a smile at that and shakes his head a little.

“I’ve never felt that for any Omega before… Any person,” Castiel amends, eyes still wide with wonder. “I didn’t know… I didn’t think it could be like that. I thought maybe I was broken or damaged. You’re so... “ Castiel shakes his head again. His expression turns serious. “We have impeccable timing.”

“Yeah, just a few months late, in the midst of huge crises in our lives, no big deal,” Dean scoffs, grinning at Castiel. “Maybe if _someone_ hadn’t have _insisted_ on so much _professionalism_.” Dean pinches Castiel’s hip, causing a low growl to rumble in his mate’s chest. 

Inappropriate, but…. _Hot_.

Castiel honest to God giggles, his lips pulling back into a gummy smile. Dean practically swoons.

“Maybe…” Castiel says quietly, after pinning Dean’s hands to his sides easily. ( _HOT!!!_ ) ”Maybe we _could_ figure something out.”

“Yeah, who says we gotta have jobs and pay rent? We’re True Mates and shit! We’re going off script!” Dean declares

“I wasn’t aware we were part of an orchestrated plot line here,” Castiel responds seriously. Dean laughs.

“Damn right, Cas,” he says, grabbing him and turning him over so that Dean can burrow into Castiel’s chest comfortably. “We’re makin’ it up as we go,” he mumbles. 

Dean yawns and drifts to sleep, lulled by the the scent of his mate. He thinks he hears a muffled murmur of “Fuck it.” before sleep finally engulfs him.


End file.
